


Oh, you think wool is your ally!

by youcantsaymylastname



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Gotham City is Terrible, Ivy and John discuss their previous problematic realationships, John Blake Needs a Hug, John is a Mess, Knitting, M/M, Not diagnosed adhd, Socially awkward John, Subspace, barsad/Ivy background relationship, discussions about adhd, ivy and John were university bff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-04-21 08:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantsaymylastname/pseuds/youcantsaymylastname
Summary: John Blake is an investigative reporter searching for clues about a secret craft collective with insider knowledge of Gotham’s corrupt judicial system. While John searches for the secret crafting collective, he meets Bane. John‘s brain shorts out. How can John focus on locating the mysterious League of Shadow Crafters while lusting for Bane’s enormous thighs?
Relationships: Bane (DCU)/John Blake
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	Oh, you think wool is your ally!

John groaned when he read his boss’s suggestion for his next article. After his last two stories written for Vice Gotham generated 100,000+ hits on their homepage, John was finally being noticed by the editors.

John was proud of his story about the Gotham ballet dancer who was secretly a cat burglar by night. Gotham P.D. wanted him to reveal his sources and expose Selina, but Vice hired a lawyer to represent John, which, of course, made more people click on his story.

His other article was an exposé on Dr. Jonathan Crane, a devious doctor who was testing an unlicensed antidepressant spray on his patients in Arkham Asylum. The drug caused delusions and brain swelling, but Dr Crane ignored his increasingly ill patients. His goal: a lucrative government military grant.

Dr. Crane and his team ignored increasingly erratic behaviours and refused to treat symptoms and growing illnesses because his test subjects were deemed criminally insane or mentally unfit in a psychiatric hospital with no advocates to speak for them. Meanwhile, Dr. Crane continued to tweak and test his toxic spray, hoping for his desired results.

John worked as an orderly, undercover for months, desperate to prove Crane’s culpability after he had learned about the experiments from a co-worker’s sister. The sister had been a test subject for the experimental spray and had been hospitalized in Gotham Mercy ICU, escaping Dr Crane’s grasp.

Unfortunately, no one had believed her horrific stories about her treatment at Arkham. Dr Crane’s reputation as a skilled and respected clinician cast doubt on the mentally unstable woman in ICU. Therefore, John’s exposé had rocked Gotham.

John assumed he’d be assigned the Oswald Cobblepot trial and its inevitable fallout for his next article, but yesterday, a Gotham judge dismissed the charges against the Penguin, even though the case had seemed open and shut.

Cobblepot’s nightclub, The Iceberg, had been funneling mob money and selling designer drugs. The case should have been a slam dunk with tons of credible witnesses, hours of illegal transactions caught on video, and computer data corroborating all the subsequent police work, but the judge threw out the case stating the witnesses had perjured themselves and the computer data had been corrupted.

But his boss didn't want John to write about the Iceberg incident. Instead, his editor wanted John to focus on the yarnstorming that had happened overnight. Obviously, some Gothamites must have known about Cobblepot’s impending release, because that morning, hanging in the trees and fences around Gotham P.D. headquarters and near the courthouse steps, were dozens and dozen of penguin amigurumis staring accusingly at law enforcement. When you flipped the tiny creatures over, some had tiny, red stitching that read take Gotham from the Corrupt. Others had bright blue writing that read a Shining Example of Justice.

The Penguin had been exonerated without charges, but for these tiny protest birds to have been knit or crocheted in advance, they had to have been privy to knowledge that Cobblepot’s charges would be thrown out weeks ago. How had these Social Justice Crafters known the outcome weeks ago when the judge had only thrown out the case last night?

This wasn't their first knitffiti protest, either. After Gotham learned the Dent Act was built on a lie and deemed unconstitutional, cute donut creatures with big accusing eyes appeared hanging from trees in the park, or knitted around police cars antennas. The red stitching on some boldly said corrupt. Others had oppressors or liars stitched onto their tiny knit bodies.

John had bought his liar donut, with its cute eyes staring accusingly at him, on eBay. John dared others to judge him. (The donuts were coveted by everyone at work and John had to weed out several shady sellers before finding a real one for sale!)

How the hell am I supposed to find a social justice knitting ninja collective? John groaned, trudging down to his local coffee shop, hoping a big dose of caffeine, lots of chocolate meringues, and surfing the web for yarnbombing in Gotham would provide him with some clues. 

Two hours later, John was furiously typing, staccato loud, after drinking three huge cups of dark, sugary-sweet coffee with extra shots of espresso. John typed his ideas for his story onto the page. How could he meet with the knitting collective known as ‘The Fire Rises’?

Their first knitting ninja event happened two years ago when several paintings at Gotham’s modern art museum had been covered with knitted shrouds. Some shrouds had the cryptic, It doesn't matter who we are, what matters is our plan. Another shroud said: The Fire Rises in bold knitted letters. But it was the last one that stuck with John. I AM the League of Shadows.

Who the hell talks like that? John shook his head in disbelief. Talk about a pretentious group of renegade knitters. But as he packed up his laptop, ready to brave the crowded evening subway, John wished he had the confidence these assholes seemed to have. They’d broken into a museum that housed million-dollar art, but they didn't steal a thing. These knitffiti renegades didn't set off any alarms, yet they covered art in perfectly fitted wool shrouds without harming the masterpieces underneath. It was ballsy.

What did their slogans mean? More importantly, how did they know the Dent Act would be repealed? Or when the judge would throw out a case? All their protest graffiti seemed to be completed well in advance.

John wondered how long it took to make a knitted penguin with snarky writing embroidered on the bottom. Knowing how long amigurumis took to crochet might answer how long ago this knitting collective knew about the corrupt city judge. John sighed, pulling out his phone to text Ivy. If anyone understood knitting, it would be Ivy.

….  
Back in college, Ivy had ‘stitch and bitch’ parties that John was obligated to attend. John had cobbled together a passable Batman scarf, making his own design pattern (a must if you wanted to crochet or knit with them), but Selina and Ivy mocked his slow purl stitching and meticulous tiny precision rows of wool. Fed up with their negativity, John glared at his two mean friends and threw his hard work in their faces before stomping down to the Bowery Bar to get wasted with the guys on his floor.  
….

John frowned and fired off a text to his best friend, hoping she’d steer him in the right direction.

☎️(John) I have a knitting question for you.

☎️(Ivy) I distinctly remember that you swore to never, ever utter the word knitting again

☎️(John) Which is why I am texting you. Remember, I swore never to say the word knitting. But I need your expertise

☎️(Ivy) You're texting me for knitting insight? I know you too well. I'll answer your questions but only if you buy me an expensive dinner.

☎️(John) Pamela Lillian Isley! Are you trying to bribe me?

☎️(Ivy) How many times, ROBIN, have we talked about our birth names and how we will address each other by our preferred nomenclature?

☎️(John) *emoji white flag gesture of surrender* Which expensive restaurant should I make reservations for? I respect your dietary choices.

\---

John walked through the rose gardens towards the main greenhouse in Robinson Park. His best friend from uni became Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley, a world renowned botanist and lecturer at Gotham University.

Swiping through his messages, John nearly tripped over a black hose that crossed the walkway. John’s eye followed the hose, finally, noticing the massive, muscled man spraying the apple trees nearby. The guy was ripped, his back and shoulders clearly defined by the tiny black t-shirt which strained to keep the man’s bulk contained. Unfortunately, his cargo pants were looser, so John could see the man had a great body, but couldn't comment personally about his ass.

Stop ogling the gardeners! Ivy will flay me for treating her team like meat, John thought as he chuckled out loud, knowing it was true.

The huge guy stopped spraying the trees, turning his face towards John, probably hearing him laugh. John gasped, stepping backwards, staring up at the beast of a man. What the hell was on his face?

“Oh. My. God. You scared the shit out of me, dude,” said John, realizing how rude he sounded.

The man wore a respirator to keep him safe from breathing in the chemicals, or whatever Ivy created to keep her plants healthy. “Your mask, it’s intense, I wasn't expecting it. I'm John Blake. I'm meeting Dr. Isley.”

John grinned at the large man, moving closer, hoping he'd introduce himself. John realized he needed to go out very soon to the clubs or flip through grindr, because he was making a fool of himself in front of Ivy’s employee.

Big guy lifted the mask off his head and quickly placed it under his massive arm. John couldn't help but stare. This guy was hot. He had gorgeous lips, and John continued to stare, probably making it awkward and weird for the guy. John noticed raised white scars across those pretty lips as they moved. Shit. Shit. Shit. John hadn't heard a word the guy said.

“My eyes are up here, John,” boomed the voice. He wasn't American. John smiled brightly, at least he was being playful?

“You’re beautiful,” whispered John. Now John wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. What was he, a teenage boy looking for a prom date? He really needed to get out more, date, talk to men, be cool, oh god.

“Do you know Ivy?” asked the guy as he put the respirator away in a shed.

John nodded, hoping if he didn't open his mouth, embarrassing words might not fall out of them.

“Follow me. She's working in the east greenhouse.”

John wished he knew the guy’s name so he could call him something besides ‘hot muscly guy’ in his head.

“I didn't catch your name. I was too busy staring at your arms,” spilled John, blushing, wishing his mouth would stay closed and incriminating words would stop pouring from his brain.

“My name is Bane. The distance between a compliment and an insult is measured only by success.” Bane said slyly as they walked side by side towards the east greenhouse.

John hoped Bane didn't always talk like a Bond villain, although honestly, John would probably ignore it if it meant getting his cell number.

Ivy waved, her red hair pulled back with a headband, as she finished planting some type of large rosebush. John had forgotten how much he missed her when they didn’t see each other in person.

Ivy had kept him focused on his schoolwork all through university, especially when John needed to work several jobs to keep paying his tuition. John would fall asleep in Ivy’s bed, studying while trying to keep up with his communication courses. Ivy would often tuck him into bed, sometimes crawling under the covers with him, being the best friend a boy could ask for.

John always respected that Ivy never once tried to pick him up. It would have made things weird. Instead, they had been best friends, sharing beds, phones and sometimes boys.

John had a flash of sadness; they weren't as close as they once were. Was that because she'd gone on to grad school while John interned at the Daily Planet before he found permanent work at the Metropolis 24 news channel? John realized how happy he was to back be home in Gotham.

“John, you’ve met Bane! Bane, John introduced me to Jason. John brought him back to our dorm. It was a one night stand for John, but I fell in love.” Ivy took John’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they reminisced.

Jason Woodrue had seemed like a nice guy then; a caring boyfriend. But it had been subterfuge as a way to steal Ivy’s formulas and create a neurotoxin called Venom. Dr. Woodrue had poisoned several people with horrific results before going on the run.

He had been arrested last year and locked up in Blackgate Penitentiary. The day Jason was arrested, John and Ivy talked on the phone late into the night. John had dearly wished at the time that he was back in Gotham instead of stuck in Metropolis.

Bane growled, “Dr. Woodrue has a nasty habit of surviving.”

Ivy’s laughter bubbled out. “You always get to the heart of the matter, my dear. He deserves much worse than being locked away in prison.”

John could see he was missing something... but… maybe Ivy and Bane were dating? That would explain Bane’s protectiveness and his dislike of Jason.

They sat down at a picnic table surrounded by hedges. Bane hunched forward, arms folded on the table, as though their conversation must be kept private between the three of them.

John couldn't stop staring at Bane. Obviously, his kink for big, strong men had not disappeared as his current dry spell grew longer and longer.

John mentally groaned. How was he supposed to concentrate with those massive thighs touching him? John wondered what Bane would look like naked on his bed. He probably…

John glanced up at Ivy and Bane. They were waiting for him to answer. He'd missed the question because he'd been ogling Bane’s quadriceps. John blushed.

John tried to distract them from the question by explaining why he was there. “I had some questions about those knitting thighs,” John stuttered.

Oh god. After he was finished taking his foot out of his mouth, John wondered if he could go live in the sewers, where he could live his life as a hermit, searching for the infamous killer crocs until he thought with his brain and not his dick.

John raised his hand to silence Ivy’s muffled laughter. “No, no, I mean, questions about the knitting heists. You're a knitting expert, how long would it take to make those penguin amigurumi?”

Ivy drummed her fingers on her lips, calculating mentally the amount of time it would take to crochet a medium sized penguin.

Before she could answer, Bane chimed in. “Depending on speed and precision, perhaps, several hours to a day?”

Ivy nodded her head in agreement. “The hard parts would be sewing on wings, eyes, and then stitching the words on the penguins. Is Vice sending you to investigate the penguins found at City Hall?”

John shrugged, not yet certain whether there was a story, and found his eyes glued to Bane’s enormous hands. Did Bane knit too? Where did Ivy find this guy?

Bane nudged John with his shoulder. “Focus, John! Now's not the time for flirting. That comes later. You promised Ivy dinner.”

John hugged his arms around his chest before nervously replying to Ivy. “I did promise you dinner.”

He realized he’d already made a fool of himself, so he recklessly decided to flash his dimples at Bane while asking, “Can I give you my number before we go? I’d love to have you for dessert… I mean… go out for dessert...oh god.”

Ivy burst out laughing. “John, sweetie, you’re such a ridiculous flirt!”

John scrambled off the bench and away from Bane, hoping for lightning to strike him. He’d forgotten how painful his attempts at flirting were.

John had always been socially awkward around men he liked, possibly stemming from being raised in an all-boy orphanage where he had kept his sexuality a secret; afraid of standing out or putting an easy target on his back.

After coming out in university, John chose to have one night stands when he was drunk and less likely to say inappropriate or weird things. Bane had triggered John’s hidden need for companionship and sex. A need John kept locked down because he hated how easily he embarrassed himself.

But Bane hadn't mocked John for his comments about his hot body. In fact, Bane handed John his unlocked phone, encouraging him to type in his number as Ivy left to get her purse and coat.

Bane lifted John's chin with a finger, making him fidget nervously as he stared into the huge man’s grey eyes. “I will text you my address. Bring me a piece of Chocolate-Peanut Butter Bliss. I expect you at my door before 10 tonight. Do you understand?”

John’s mind went blissfully blank, his stomach fluttering, heart pounding. He wanted Bane in a visceral way; a way John had never experienced, if he was being honest with himself. Ugh. Self-Reflection sucked.

Ivy motioned to John. He nodded to Bane, wanting to follow him home, but Bane had given him instructions and John didn’t intend to disappoint.

Ivy put her arm around John’s waist, pulling him close. “Are you sure about Bane? He’s intense. Once he decides he wants something, he becomes very consumed. Your dick certainly wants Bane, but can you handle him emotionally?”

John shrugged because he'd never had an emotional relationship with any guy, how should he know what he could handle?

Ivy put her head on his shoulder as they walked up 42nd Street towards Robson Plaza. John had reserved a table at Ivy’s favourite vegan restaurant.

Bane knew they’d be eating at Intermission since he'd ordered John to bring back his favourite dessert from that very restaurant. Did Ivy tell Bane where they would be eating?

John opened the door, letting Ivy enter into the busy eatery first. John was always surprised by how busy Intermission was, since he wasn't a vegetarian. But the food was gourmet, the tables hard to come by without a reservation, and Ivy adored the view of her gardens from the rooftop patio.

John’s phone buzzed while he and Ivy were handed menus. John ducked his head, apologetic, and turned off his loud ringer, glancing quickly at the text.

☎️(Bane) No alcohol. I wish for your consent and your total focus. Do not disappoint me.

John put the phone back into his pocket, realizing his hands were shaking when Ivy reached across the table. He was glad to be here with a friend who understood him so well.

“I've never gone home with someone completely sober,” admitted John softly.

Ivy nodded in agreement, probably remembering John stumbling into her room, teary-eyed and still drunk, after any number of bungled one night stands. John would pick up strangers and get them off, often leaving the minute the guy had an orgasm, still hard himself, but afraid to say what he wanted and needed.

John hated the kisses, the intimacy, the part where he needed to say words to communicate what he wanted. John didn't know how to talk to the guys he liked, especially those he went home with. Sometimes his body needed release, but his mind and mouth never wanted to cooperate.

After several disastrous attempts at small talk, or flirty, frightening, and uncomfortable banter with guys during John’s first year of university, he revised his pick up game. Get pissed, pick up emotionally unavailable men, hopefully have an orgasm, leave quickly afterwards — before there could be a next time. John hated seeing guys wince or mock his verbal attempts to negotiate more sex, cuddling, wanting to staying over, or asking for their numbers.

It was easier to fuck, run, and go crash in Ivy’s room beside his best friend who gave him comfort, friendship, and space, and sometimes stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

“John, you picked assholes. They treated you like garbage. They made you feel worthless and starved for real affection. You are a good looking, successful journalist with flirting deficits.”

Ivy’s words were hard to hear. John squirmed, but knew Ivy needed to finally say what she saw when they were in school. Ivy took a sip of her wine and John wished he had ordered some too, but he knew he wanted Bane’s approval more.

Ivy continued, “John, you've always lacked a filter to stop saying what your brain is thinking. You're honest. You’re hilarious. But you might have a tiny bit of ADD.”

Ivy rubbed her fingers over John’s palms. “You deserve better than those creeps who used you.”

John wanted to crawl under the table, but Ivy had to tell him the truth he'd shied away from hearing when he was 20. Without parents or siblings, John had no one to have embarrassing heart-to-hearts with after he disastrously flirt-blurted.

John had learned young that emotions were something you hid because no one wanted a sad kid from an orphanage with no social skills and no emotional literacy. His time at St. Swithins had warped him. John grasped Ivy’s hands tighter, waiting for her to tell him he was broken.

“John, you’re a great guy, but you do tell guys way too much information. You share your private thoughts. And I love that about you. Your honesty, your integrity, your ability to love with your whole heart. I wouldn't change a thing about you.” Ivy pulled John’s hand towards her, dropping a kiss on his knuckle.

“Bane’s also an orphan and he says what's on his mind…. I’ll tell you a secret,” Ivy leaned close to John as the waiter brought them their appetizers. “I'm dating his roommate, Barsad. He’s a law clerk at City Hall. We met almost two years ago after … Bane …. needed critical research that I wrote my dissertation on. We're collaborating on a researching grant about venom and its effects on humans.”

Ivy took a bite of her mushroom ‘calamari’. “I realized Bane’s extensive gardening knowledge made him the perfect candidate for the Robson’s garden staff. When he began his research, I learned how brilliant he is and we’ve been collaborating since then.”

As they talked, Ivy twisted a beautiful emerald ring on her finger. Oh god, he was so slow these days.

“You're not just dating! You're engaged. Congratulations. You deserve to be happy.” John tried to keep his emotions bottled up, but he could feel the anxiety eating his stomach. His hands shaking slightly.

John had brought Jason to her door, introduced them. Toxic Jason, who’d stolen Ivy’s work and used her plant experiments to harm people.

John’s guilt had probably kept him away from Gotham longer than it should have. He felt the panic bubbling up, ready to drown him, John’s skin tightened and stretched thin across his bones. He should have come back and faced Ivy sooner. She didn't hold a grudge. The fear was all in John’s head. Breathe. Breathe.

“Thank you sweetie, he’s wonderful. Barsad and Bane were both in the army. Barsad has a law degree from University of Cairo. I can't wait to introduce you.” Ivy drank from her glass of wine. John wished again that he could have some wine to calm his nerves, but knew that he'd rather have Bane than a nice merlot.

Before they left the restaurant, John ordered the dessert Bane requested. As they walked through the old Sprangberg neighbourhood, Ivy kept John grounded by talking about her work, friends they had in common, and asked about John’s new job at Vice.

John nodded at the right moments and Ivy kept up a steady stream of conversation, knowing John was anxious and equally excited as they travelled through badly lit streets towards Barsad and Bane’s beat up brownstone near the Sprang Bridge.

Ivy fished in her bag, searching for her set of house keys. John glanced at his phone, checking the time, knowing it was before ten but worried he hadn't followed Bane’s instructions.

His brain fizzed and buzzed with anticipation. Bane seemed to like his motor mouth. Bane appreciated John, even if he was considered a hothead, speaking out of turn, blurting out his sexual thoughts as if it was an acceptable practice. John wanted to be himself tonight, no holding back, no pretending to be laid back and chill. Bonus: Bane was ripped and so fucking hot.

The old brownstone door had seen better days, but housing, even dilapidated homes near the Narrows, were still at a premium in Gotham.

Ivy placed her hand on John’s shoulder, “Bane respects boundaries. If he invited you here, he’s serious about his interest.” Then Ivy hugged John tightly as she unlocked the door. “I adore you. Have fun.”

The house was being renovated, the hallway stripped, and the wiring strung through the walls. There were tools, drywall, and insulation wrapped in plastic, all lying on the floor and against the walls.

Ivy grinned. ”Kojo, their other roommate, has been working on the house little by little. The living room and kitchen look more polished. Follow me.”

John carried the dessert, holding it like a sugary shield. The television blasted a newscast about Cobblepot’s triumphant reopening of his club, The Iceberg. John could hear men grumbling and arguing before he saw them seated on two large couches.

Bane’s presence overshadowed everything and John’s eyes were glued to him where he was knitting a large piece of an afghan. Bane’s massive arms didn't slow down his knitting prowess.

While Bane spoke in soft rapid fire Arabic sentences, he wrapped the wool expertly around large gauge knitting needles, which clicked rhythmically as stitches were quickly added onto the blanket he was creating. On the other couch, a fit, but much smaller man was crocheting what John thought might be cute rocket flavoured amigurumi popsicle.

OMG. How had he been so blind? Ivy. Secret knitting collectives. Of course. Bane and Barsad were part of the knitting ninjas. Somehow Bane knew secret details about the Gotham police and the justice system before it became public knowledge.

John debated turning around before anything else happened. Barsad worked as a law clerk, which might explain some of their inside knowledge. Weighing all the options in his head, John knew he wouldn't reveal Barsad’s role, if it would affect Ivy in any way.

The smaller man stood up, graceful and predatory like a jaguar. Barsad, John assumed, as he gathered Ivy in his arms, whispering softly in her ear. Ivy’s musical laugh filled the room. She waved goodbye to John, a secretive smile on her face as she followed her fiancé up the stairs. As she reached the top of the staircase, she stopped and spoke to Bane in fluent Arabic.

Bane nodded curtly while he continued to knit a row of large, precise stitches in an off-green wool that had a black, block letter M blazoned on it.

“You knit,” said John, stating the obvious. Wow. How was he so eloquent with the written word but when he spoke to men he wanted, his words were a nightmare?

Bane lifted an eyebrow in response, but continued to work on his project. John stammered, filling the dreaded silence. “You made the Penguins and, and, you made the shrouds. Your work is so detailed and smart. I have a donut from your last project in my apartment.”

“We seek justice, John.” Bane carefully placed his knitting needles and green wool on the ottoman in front of the couch. "A hero can be anyone. Even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as knitting reminds citizens that Gotham won't be ignored. Justice must be served. Corruption will not be the norm.”

John stood frozen to the floor, holding the dessert container tightly to his chest as Bane moved closer. John was amazed that someone so huge could be so quietly powerful.

“I brought you dessert? Do I get my reward?” John asked, voice caught in his throat as Bane stepped in front of him. Giddy, anxious and horny as hell, John blurted, “I'd like a bite of your massive thighs.”

Bane grabbed John’s bicep, tightly. “I'm tempted to say yes immediately, but we need guidelines before we go any further.”

While his strong hold grounded John, Bane’s words shook him. No one had ever asked him what his expectations and needs were. Usually, John's one night flings stripped naked, clothes discarded all over the floor in a careless heap while waiting impatiently for John to do the same. John felt a weight lifting off his chest because he was being listened to even after asking to taste Bane’s meaty thighs.

John tried to smile, but it faltered once he realized he'd need to say words about Bane and sex at the same time. John tried NOT to focus on Bane’s very defined quads and hamstrings. John definitely should NOT think about Bane’s exercise regime. Or Bane doing squats, making his glutes flex and his back arch as he pushed… Dread bubbled up to the surface of his mind. What the hell was he thinking? John knew how random and awkward his thoughts became once his dick got involved.

Bane seemed to understand how John’s racing thoughts and his underlying fear of rejection tainted his interactions. “Shhh, we will go slow tonight. Next time, John Blake, your obedience and pleasure will be all mine.”

Bane guided him towards the staircase. John moved one foot in front of the other, worried that if he focused on anything but going forward, he'd misstep and crash.

Don’t fall flat on your face. You are gracefu… oh my god, did I just try to positive self talk my ability to walk? Shut up, brain. Breathe.

This wasn't rocket science. Sex wasn’t new. Hookups happened but, this, this felt bigger to John somehow. He felt pushed into the deep end of a pool without having water wings or whatever they put on little kids that made them look cute and buoyant.

Thankfully, Bane threw him a life preserver.

“The door, John.” Bane's voice brought him back from drowning in positive self talk (ugh) and fresh concerns about how to leave gracefully, please, if there’s a hope, when this was over.

John pushed open the bedroom door, refocusing on being in the moment (seriously, brain, shut up), as they reached the end of a long hallway.

Inside, a huge, king sized bed with an ornate wrought-iron frame dominated the room. The duvet cover and walls were stark white. The only personalized pieces seemed to be the bed and a stuffed bear lying on the neatly placed pillows.

Who made their bed every day? Apparently, Bane did. But, Bane also kept a scruffy stuffed bear with one eye in a place of reverence on that bed. John fell a bit in love with Bane when he saw the teddy bear. Bane, gruff, capable, giant, yet a secret knitter, social craftivator, and secret teddy bear lover.

“Sit,” Bane said.

John decided he’d never get tired of that voice. John wondered what it would be like to have Bane’s voice narrating audiobooks? He smirked. If Bane read books for a living, John would become the first audio librarian.

John’s eyes tracked Bane’s arms, trying not to openly drool. How much did Bane benchpress? John ran daily so he knew that Bane’s massive size took dedication.

Bane flexed his arms, noticing John’s gaze. “While I enjoy dessert, describe in detail your desires for this evening.”

Bane sat on floor, spooning tiny, sinful bites into his lush mouth, decadently licking the spoon as though he was alone, enjoying the rich cake.

John closed his eyes, trying to group together his thoughts in a logical way like he did when he wrote. But, c’mon, Bane’s tongue was a bloody huge distraction.

Even worse, Bane’s heady smell, earthy with a hint of leather, surrounded John on the bed. Bane slept under this duvet every night, probably naked, turning, twisting and dreaming. John’s breath sped up, thinking of a naked, sleeping Bane.

Squirming, John sighed internally. Bane, sweaty, delicious… John tried to wrestle his thoughts back to the present.

John studied Bane, resting his back on the door, powerful, huge, and eating a messy dessert without caring in any way how he affected John’s blood pressure.

“God, the shape of your lips should be illegal. The way you lick that spoon makes me hard as fuck. I want to strip naked and worship at your feet.” John knew once the words started, they would pour out of him, steamrolling, hotter than lava with no way to stop them unless John left the room or put his hand over his mouth.

“Focus your thoughts. What do you desire tonight?” Bane’s voice was dark, menacing, and John shivered with excitement. How the hell was he going to survive this night if Bane kept pitching his voice that low?

John’s hands fluttered in the air, as he fought his natural inclination not to let his dick do the talking. John hesitated, hesitations based from old fears, not from Bane. Bane’s behaviour defied all his old expectations.

“Your mouth. I can't stop thinking about chasing the taste of the peanut butter bliss on your lips. I want to be under you, feel your body weight, your massive arms and, god, those legs, pinning, holding me down. I need to feel your lips sucking my cock. I’ll probably come just watching you,” John spoke quicker and quicker as the all the pornographic ideas spilled out of his mouth. He stopped and pursed his lips, trying not to say anything else.

Bane moved slightly. He seemed uncomfortable. Why did he keep shifting?

“Watch, see how your words affect me,” Bane adjusted a noticeable bulge in his green combat pants. John’s skin felt tight watching Bane’s huge hand cradle his cock.

“Oh, I...your dick is huge. Are you uncut, because, I’ve never… I mean, shit, I'm circumcised.” John’s face heated up.

He hated his mouth so much at the moment. Sure, Bane found his awkward flirting cute, but straight up discussing Bane’s large dick size and shape before they got naked? New level of embarrassment and unacceptability. Ugh.

John pushed himself off Bane’s bed. He should just go before it went any further. If he sprinted for the door, or jumped out of the window, Bane might not even notice for 20 seconds or more.

Ok. Running away won’t solve anything. Stay. You’ve got this. But John’s face felt hot and flushed. He wanted Bane, but his damn mouth couldn't be controlled.

Bane stood up, mirroring John’s movements. The dessert container was left near the door, discarded, probably like John would be, seconds from now. Forgotten. Enjoyed, but too much. Always too much.

John wanted to say goodbye first, before Bane thought about kicking him out. Easier. Simpler. John wished he had just shimmied out the window like an awkward Spiderman.

But then, Bane lifted the corner of his black t-shirt, showing tantalizing amounts of his toned stomach, before lifting the shirt over his head and pulling it off. John blinked several times trying to compute what had just happened. Bane kept eye contact with John as he undid the fly on his combat pants.

John’s voice shook. “I... don't understand?”

John didn't. Why would Bane take off his shirt? John figured his uncut penis question would get him kicked out of Bane’s bedroom for being too rude and blunt.

Bane unzipped his pants, pushed the green fabric down past his hips. Bane’s huge, thick cock pushing, straining, barely contained by the black briefs, was all John could look at. Maybe he could just touch it. Or lick it? Or fall to his knees and thank God. How did he end up with this guy?

“You assume your words embarrass me. You assume wrong.” Bane hooked his fingers under the waistband of his briefs, pulling down and pushing them off in one quick, fluid movement. John stared wide-eyed as Bane bent down to take his socks off next, still trying to understand how he had a naked Bane staring down at him.

“Don’t think. Just do,” said Bane as he stood proudly for John, broad, strong and definitely not circumcised.

John wasn't sure where to look because he wanted to looked everywhere at once. He raised his hand to touch Bane’s traps, tracing the defined muscles down to Bane’s biceps. Why hadn't he paid more attention in biology? What the fuck were the rest these muscles called? John wanted to lick while memorizing every single one.

Bane kept eerily still, although his dick obviously seemed to enjoy John's first hesitant touches. Instead of dropping to his knees, which John wanted to do so badly, he ran his fingers over the scars on Bane’s cheek and lip. Bane’s eyes closed for a moment, giving John time to feel the raised lines on Bane's bottom lip without being watched. Whenever Bane looked closely at John, he always seemed to know what John was thinking.

He decided to act, stepping into Bane’s space and nuzzling his chest. Bane’s body radiated heat and John’s tongue slid out to taste the dip between his pecs. Bane must have showered before John arrived because he no longer smelt like cut grass and sweat. John nosed upwards, tracing the curve that defined Bane’s chest muscles.

John craved more, oh god, so much more. Bane said he could do anything he desired. John felt powerful, having Bane naked and strong, waiting for his instructions.

He wrapped his arms around Bane’s massive shoulders, trying to get as close as he could; wanting even more skin to skin contact.

“Can you lift me?” asked John, knowing full well that Bane could carry him easily. John needed to feel Bane’s muscles strain with effort while John was held against the wall.

“Is that your wish, John?” Bane’s lips were so close to John’s ear, the words intoxicatingly low.

“Uhm, carry, I mean, the wall,” John shook his head, frustrated. How could he get tongue-tied? How ironic considering how his words slid out of his mouth in a maelstorm. But Bane waited, unconcerned, John’s consent revoked once he hesitated.

Instead of explaining what he meant with his unpredictable words, John stepped backwards, pulling his shirt over his head. Undoing his pants, John grinned up at Bane, feeling confident because Bane had equalized the playing field for John by undressing. “If you're going to hold me up against the wall, I want to be naked with my legs wrapped around you.”

Bane chuckled. John loved that sound. He wanted to hear Bane laugh again.

Bane fisted his cock, sliding the foreskin over the glistening tip, teasing John. John licked his lips, trying to focus on getting his jeans off.

As John hopped inelegantly in front of Bane trying to get his socks off, he rumbled, “Pinned against the wall? Is that all you desire?”

Reaching up to wrap his arms around Bane’s neck, John tilted his head to the side, considering his options. Bane didn’t wait for John’s answer, lifting him as though John weighed nothing.

John felt giddy as his legs stretched around Bane’s massive waist. Bane’s cock rubbed against John’s erection, sticky and hard. Oh god, Bane’s dick was enormous.

“Kiss... I need to...” John lost his train of thought as his back slammed against the bedroom wall. Bane lowered his head. His lips, hot and soft, brushing against John’s. The cool wall against his back was a welcome contrast to the heat burning through the rest of John’s body. He chased Bane’s kisses, trying to catch his breath but feeling dizzy with need. More, he needed more.

Bane pulled away for a moment. “I will do anything you request tonight, little one, but you may not come until after I fuck you.” Bane’s words echoed through the room and John nodded frantically as Bane gauged John’s positive reaction to his demand.

John tightened his hold, trying to get more leverage. He was held flush against the wall and John tried wiggling his hips, seeking more friction, but Bane held him still with ease.

Oh god, Bane wanted to fuck him. John groaned, his cock rock hard from being surrounded by a wall of muscle. And Bane ordering him around was so fucking hot.

How would John be able to keep himself from coming if Bane ordering him not to come made him want to come?

“Yes, yes, that. Fuck me so hard that all I can do is scream your name and beg to come,” John stuttered, still trying to get some relief for his aching cock by rubbing it against Bane’s stomach and massive dick.

Bane barked out a laugh, dark and low. “Your wish is my command.”

John whimpered a bit as Bane began licking into his mouth, hard, dominating kisses making John giddy trying keep up.

“Hold on,” Bane ordered. John squeezed tightly around Bane, his hands clutching Bane’s back muscles, his arms straining. Bane moved away from the wall, forcing John to do all the work to stay in place.

Bane took pity and placed a hand on John’s ass as he moved them to the bed. John’s back hit the duvet and he scrambled backwards to the middle of the bed, his head tilting upwards to meet Bane, panting into his mouth, wanting more.

John opened his eyes, realizing he needed to memorize every moment of this encounter. In the past, John had either been drunk or so anxiety-ridden that he had forgotten to enjoy the sex.

Bane settled over John, thick legs bracketing him; his huge arms on either side of John’s shoulders, effortlessly holding himself up and making John whine. Bane was a powerhouse.

“What do you need, little one?” reminded Bane softly as he nipped at John’s lower lip. John surged upwards trying to chase Bane’s mouth, wanting more bites and kisses.

“Can you suck my cock? Because your lips are sinful and I thought about them around my dick all through dinner.” John grabbed at Bane’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer, embarrassed, yet turned on by his own daring.

“Whatever you desire, John. What do I need?” Bane stopped licking and biting, staring down at John.

John held himself up on his elbows, face to face with Bane, knowing what was expected of him. “I can’t come until you fuck me. I promise. I’ll obey you.”

John blew out a deep breath. He could. He would. He would do anything for Bane. Those eyes. Those arms. John had been waiting for Bane forever. Someone who understood his motormouth, his anxiety, his desires but also his need to cede control.

Bane’s head lowered to John’s neck, licking, biting, and leaving a trail as he marked John as his own. John panted, already overheating, breathless, and Bane hadn’t even touched his dick yet.

“My nipples are very sensitive. Maybe don’t touch them before you…” John moaned as Bane ignored him, running his tongue around the edge of John’s right nipple.

John’s body was on fire, warring with itself. His hips canted up to rub against Bane’s cock, while he tried to shy away from Bane’s lips because John knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming if Bane bit his nipples like he had his neck.

Bane held John’s hips with his legs, making John even more turned on and frantic.

Bane rumbled softly, “If you come first, I will need to punish you, little one.”

John’s willpower quickly evaporated. John closed his eyes, trying to will his erection to listen to him and not to Bane’s voice. “You can’t say that. You’re cheating. I will come.”

Bane bit John’s left nipple, making John cry out. John whimpered, trying to count to 100 by 3’s—anything to keep himself from blowing his load all over Bane’s stomach.

Bane started alternating nipples, taking one into his mouth, suckling until John’s nipples were rock hard before Bane’s teeth nipped sharply, causing John's brain to short circuit. He felt as though he was flying, the flashes of pain increasing, his senses soaring, Bane’s voice centering him through the haze.

John begged softly, “I want to be good, please help me be good.”

“You must control yourself.” Bane’s words buzzed and bounced around in John’s head. He felt disconnected from everything but Bane.

“John, focus on my voice, you cannot consent if you're in subspace. I will continue when you are in control.” Bane's words. Concentrate. John felt safe, cocooned in Bane’s bed. So insulated, everything felt floaty.

“John, tell me where you are.” Bane’s thumb and index finger were pressing, tracing his cheek. Bane tilted John’s head up with a soft brush of his fingers under John’s chin.

John eyelids fluttered close. His arms felt like liquid gold, his legs pushed together, held there by Bane’s thighs. Protected, warm, floating away.

Bane whispered in John’s ear before biting on it softly. “Either you come back to me and I fuck you until you beg to come riding my cock, or I let you float until the endorphins fade and I tuck you in for the night.”

John had never experienced this type of intense reaction—disconnected, vulnerable yet secure—before. It was scary how quickly John had entered subspace. Lovely as it was, Bane offered something more substantial: his unrelenting focus and desire. John wanted Bane, not just being able to float joyously within his own body.

With a shake of his head, John tried sitting up, hoping to dislodge the feeling of euphoria and flying. Bane pulled him into a crushing hug, keeping him grounded while John rested his head on Bane’s massive pecs. Bane kissed John’s forehead, brushing away the curls that had escaped his gelled hair and speaking softly to him in Arabic.

John tried to regain control of his thoughts. “I’m trying to change directions. You’re overwhelming me in the best way, but I feel drunk.”

Bane kissed the top of John’s head, knowing what John needed even if John couldn't process anything. John leaned into the safe embrace. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate when Bane was coddling him?

“We haven't finished, Habibi.” Bane pushed John down on his back, straddling John’s waist. John laughed quietly. Bane was so big, immense, he stole the air from the room. John couldn't look away.

Bane slid further back on John's legs before shifting and settling between them. John splayed his legs wide, trying to accommodate Bane.

With Bane kneeling between his legs (oh god) John braced his upper body on his forearms because John wasn't sure what would happen next and he needed to see everything. John knew tonight’s plans had changed; Bane had set parameters that John couldn't follow through with because he felt so deliciously tingly and free.

“Are you ready?” asked Bane. John tried to process what he was ready for when Bane leaned down, licking along John's belly button. John giggled; he hadn't expected the feather soft licks.

“You didn't say anything about tickling. No fair.” John felt lightheaded, finding it hard to concentrate. John tried to wiggle away from Bane’s hot tongue. It slid downwards, Bane nipping at his belly button, then down his lower abs, never touching John’s leaking cock that bumped repeatedly against Bane’s cheek, wanting attention.

“Bane, you're teasing me. Just, you, use, your mouth.” John pushed his hips upwards, trying to find relief. Bane huffed, but kept focused on licking and nipping, not touching John’s hard cock. Bane seemed to be purposefully trailing kisses and bites around his dick, teasing him unfairly.

John needed Bane to suck his cock. John grabbed Bane’s head in his hands, trying to direct Bane’s mouth.

Bane stopped licking and biting the sensitive area above John’s balls. He lifted his head making eye contact with John. John realized what he was doing, quickly removing his hands off Bane’s head, eyes wide. Grabbing a partner’s head to encouraging them suck your cock was bad. Oh God.

“You need something to do with your hands, John. You are not in charge anymore. You are mine to pleasure how I wish and you will come only when I decide it's time. Lie back down. Lift your arms over your head.” John nodded, hurrying to follow Bane’s orders. He reached over his head, feeling the wrought iron headboard. He gripped the rungs tightly, trying to breathe.

“I'm sorry, I'll be good,” mumbled John. His body felt so melty. Having something to hold helped John from floating away. “I don't want to fly away. I want to stay with you.”

John looked down towards Bane, whose mouth was so close to his erection but still achingly far. But Bane took pity on John and wrapped his hand around John’s cock. Finally! A whimper of need escaped John.

“Little bird, before you fly away, reach over to the nightstand.” John turned his head, trying to stay in the moment as Bane started to slide his big, callused hand up and down John’s overly sensitive dick.

On the nightstand lay a bottle of lube and some condoms. John reached with one hand, grabbing the lube, trying to listen and not to demand Bane to stop torturing him.

Bane knew what John needed, Bane was prepared for every situation since he had a bottle of lu... John thoughts frizzled as a hot, liquid heat engulfed his dick. John’s brain officially went offline as Bane started to take long, wet sucks of John’s cock.

John squeezed his eyes shut, trying to process all the sensations at once. Bane’s hand at the bottom of his cock, gripping tightly so John couldn't come. Bane’s tongue tracing the the underside of his dick as he swallowed more and more of John’s cock.

Listening to the slurping sounds made John’s eyes open, realizing he was missing Bane’s gorgeous lips stretched over his cock.

Bane licked the head of John’s dick before sliding his lips around the crown. John whined wanting to taste Bane’s mouth. Bane’s lips were red and wet, he was sucking on John’s cock like a delicious popsicle, his perfect ass tilted upwards, all for John. Bane was pornography brought to life.

“Your mouth should be illegal,” gasped John, proud that he managed a full, coherent sentence. Bane hummed instead of answering. The vibrations sent shivers up John’s spine.

Bane’s tight grip kept John from coming but John could feel the pressure intensifying as Bane delicately ran his tongue in the slit of his cock, gauging John’s reactions, noting which actions made John whimper and beg.

John tried to keep his hips flat on the bed, needing to follow Bane’s words, but his body felt distant, relaxed and tingly. John turned his head to the side trying to center himself but also trying not to come from watching Bane stretch his scarred lips wide, trying to swallow John whole.

He pulled off John’s dick. “Should I stop, little one?”

John shook his head. No, no, please, no.

“Then keep your eyes on me,” Bane growled as his mouth engulfed John again. John’s body arched upwards, feeling the muscles in Bane’s throat contract and flutter around the head of his cock. Bane’s tongue swirled around the base of his cock.

“Please, Bane, may I come?” John’s voice was laced with desperation and want. His body wanted to explode. Who knew Bane could suck cock with such skill and abandon?

John naively assumed if Bane was a dom, he'd want John on his knees. Bane threw all John's preconceived ideas about giving up control out the window. John had never felt so in control while out of control at the same time.

Bane lifted his head, his lips sliding up John’s aching erection, with only Bane’s hard grip keeping John from orgasming from pure sexual frustration.

“Soon, John, but who’s in charge? Remind me again?” Bane tongue lapped up all the pre-come leaking from John’s pulsing erection while he waited patiently for John’s answer.

If Bane's grip on John’s dick let up for even a moment, he would come in Bane’s mouth. John swore under his breath, trying not to roll his hips but needing relief from Bane’s onslaught of sensations. Unfortunately, just imagining Bane swallowing his orgasm, his lips coated with his come, made everything impossible.

“Little one, perhaps I should stop.” Bane’s words cut through the buzzing in his head. Bane shifted his body. He planted his knees on either side of John's hips, towering over John, but not letting go of John’s erection.

John’s eyes were glued to Bane’s beautiful red lips, desperate to follow Bane’s instructions, to please him, to come when Bane commanded it.

“You’ve never submitted before, have you, John Blake? Handed your partner full control of your pleasure?” Bane inched forward on the bed, massive thighs tightening around John’s chest.

Bane knew his secret. How could John give away control to anyone when he didn't trust dodgy one night stands or tinder hookups?

The tightness in John’s chest wasn’t from Bane’s knees holding him still. Bane stripped away the cheap veneer keeping John’s true self hidden. John couldn’t give away his control when he never had any growing up without his parents, without a safety net. How the fuck could he give away his only protection?

John shivered, his body shaking with adrenaline, fear and hope flooding his system. As Bane loomed naked over him, still holding him tightly so John didn’t come while Bane looked menacing and gorgeous simultaneously, John’s brain fired a million synaptic functions trying to synthesize Bane.

Bane’s leg hair tickled his chest. Bane’s cock leaked onto his clavicle; John wanted to lick it all up like a delicious dessert. John’s brain screamed: Don’t come, Bane knows the truth, ask him permission again, floaty, be good, his dick is massive, lick, lick, don’t come, he knows. He knows.

“Do you feel in control?” Bane said softly. John shook his head gripping the headboard tightly, trying to follow all of Bane’s instructions. God, no.

Bane grinned down at him while his grey eyes crinkled at the corners, the smile appearing more like a shark grin. Bane blocked the light in the room with his body, creating a halo highlighting his massive physique. He became the sun. Bane—bright, dazzling— and John was being pulled in his intense gravitational orbit.

“Control is an illusion.”

Bane’s voice poured over him like liquid gold. John’s hips lifted off the sheets as Bane’s hands released his tight grip on John’s cock.

Without Bane’s help… “Oh God, I can’t…” John pleaded with Bane, not sure what he was begging for… was John begging for Bane to keep squeezing his dick so that John wouldn't come or for Bane to touch him more so that he would come?

John was sure of one thing. “I want to please you.”

Bane shuffled his knees further upwards, his knees crowding around John’s shoulders. Bane canted his hips forward, Bane’s erection close to his chin. John tried to lift his head but realized quickly that Bane’s whole body weighed down on him, keeping John pinned helplessly under Bane’s bulk.

John was trapped. Caged by Bane’s body, John exhaled, trying to stop the panic. Bane had all control. Bane’s words filtered through his mind, dark and magical. Control is an illusion. John felt safe. Enclosed. Relieved. His choices were Bane’s choices. Whatever Bane wanted is what John would do.

The lid of the lube snapped open. John wiggled helplessly trying to predict what would happen next, wanting to follow Bane’s instructions but unable to completely calm his body movements. Bane poured a generous amount onto his hand as John tried not to say every thought that came to his mind simultaneously.

I want you. You are beautiful. Fuck me. I want to obey you. Please. Oh God, please. It’s too much. I'm going to come all over your ass. Touch me. Oh god, just touch me.

John moaned softly, his brain overprocessing, trying to be in control while attempting to give away any semblance of control, trying desperately to follow Bane’s commands.

“Your body is mine to use. Mine to touch.” Bane sliding his slick hand down John’s erection. John’s cock jumped at Bane’s rough touch. Bane pumped his fist up and down John’s cock, while pushing his knees firmly downwards on John’s shoulders making it impossible for John to move away or stop Bane from jacking him off.

“Please, I want to obey you. Your hand feels amazing. I'm think… I’m … oh god…” John struggled valiantly one last time, bucking his hips, shimmying as much as he could left then right, trying to slow Bane’s unrelenting pace.

Bane’s grip tightened, sliding, pulling, squeezing as John’s stomach muscles tightened, his balls ached for release, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, John gasping from all the sensations he was drowning in but John couldn’t follow Bane’s command.

John whimpered softly, bucking upwards even as Bane’s body kept him anchored to the bed. John’s orgasm ripping through him, the pent up tension exploding through his body like a glittery confetti shot through a wind machine, swirling, sparkling, floating detached in a million pieces, dissipating miles away.

“You came without my permission, Litttle Bird. Your punishment? I will use you for my pleasure. Lift,” Bane motioned to John as Bane’s calloused hand slid through John’s come, coating his painfully sensitive cock.

John tried to lift his chest and shoulders as Bane changed positions, moving his knees from pinning John to the bed to moving his thighs beside his shoulders, still crowding him, engulfing him.

John sighed contently, his brain processing every reaction slowly, from far away, his body lethargic, post-orgasmic high. John noticed the white splatters of his come on Bane’s stomach marking Bane as his.

“Mine, you’re mine,” whispered John, wondering why his words were disappearing into the glittery ether. Could Bane hear him? John licked his lips trying to focus on Bane.

Bane adjusted his knees, canting his stomach and cock towards John’s face. John wondered if his pain and pleasure receptors were crossing because he wanted Bane to keep rubbing his come onto his cock even though John was overstimulated by the rough hand strokes which bordered on painful.

John pushed his shoulders upwards not able to get his elbows under him, Bane’s body still pinning him. Bane moved upwards again, twisting, to find the right position, gripping the iron headboard with his free hand.

“Open wide, Robin, breathe through your nose. I will fuck your mouth until I come. You will swallow every drop. Do not disappoint me.” Bane slid his dick over John’s bottom lip, as John stretched his mouth bigger trying to accommodate Bane’s wide uncut penis.

Bane finally let go of John’s cock, moving his free hand onto his own engorged member. Bane angled his body thrusting into John’s waiting mouth, guiding the tip of his cock over John’s lips, painting them. John wanted to tongue the drops off his lips but Bane slid his cock shallowly back into his mouth before sliding towards the back of John’s throat.

John tried to process all the sensations at once. Bane, the radiant god hovering mercilessly over him, John’s body thrumming with golden waves of excitement and the slightly bitter taste of Bane’s come in his mouth. John opened his jaw wider, needing to lick at the underside of Bane’s dick, but Bane controlled his every move.

“Take a deep breath. Counts of 4. Every 4, you will take a breath. If you tap three times on my thigh I will stop immediately. 1-2-3- breath…” John pulled a deep breathe into his body not quite understanding what Bane meant. Bane loomed like a dark angel above him, surrounding him and protecting him even as John felt Bane’s dick crowd the back of his throat, choking him.

Bane thrusted his hips hard, backwards and forwards, rocking John, making him gag at first, unable to adjust to the powerful strokes, sucking and breathing all at the same time. John’s eyes fluttered, the world spinning in a golden rainbow, curvy and immense. John’s heart hammering staccato fast in his chest reminding him to follow Bane’s counts of 4’s.

Bane’s massive thighs moved with grace and power pushing his dick deeper and deeper into John’s throat. John followed Bane’s movements helplessly before he began matching Bane’s perfectly timed thrusting. John inhaled on the count of 4. His body lit up with intoxicating oxygen.

Then the world shrunk smaller and smaller…John noticed Bane’s squeaky bed noise and the sounds of Bane’s heavy breathing, everything connected to this beautiful, sweaty, powerful man. John counted 4 in his head, trying to breathe, wanted to remember every moment. John felt free and light as Bane used his mouth for his pleasure.

“Focus on fours, pretty bird,” Bane’s thumb wiped up John’s drool from his chin as he fucked John’s mouth until he felt lightheaded and dark stars filled his vision. Bane’s hips stuttered, finally losing the frantic pace, John said Bane’s name, unheard because his mouth was full of Bane’s come, John tasting, licking, wanting Bane to know how good John could be.

“Swallow every drop, Robin, this is your punishment,” Bane’s voice seemed so distant. So far. Bane’s cock pulsing and filling his mouth and throat, John tipped his head back, trying to keep every drop, gagging, swallowing, overwhelmed with Bane’s seed. Bane rubbed John’s throat softly, guiding John’s actions, petting him.

Bane pullled his spent cock out of John’s mouth with a dark grin on his face. John tried to lift his hand to touch Bane’s scarred lips, needing to feel connected but John’s arms wouldn't follow his instructions. John’s eyes fluttered close. He felt peaceful. So warm. Protected.

John sighed contently. A strong arm pulled him closer. John struggled for a moment, unsure where he was.

“How was your flight, little bird?” Bane chuckled softly in John’s ear. John knew where he was. He was safe. John was tucked in Bane’s side with a huge duvet around him. Bane appeared to be reading the history of Gotham’s Golden Lady Justice.

“You read naked?” John regretted his words the minute they escaped his mouth. “Oh God, my disconnected brain to mouth system has rebooted.’

Bane’s thumb traced under John’s left eye. “Robin, you entered deep into subspace. I will keep an eye on you. The effects of subspace can vary,”

John smiled goofily, “Can you keep an eye on me all month? I might be a very unusual case.”

John took a sip of water, Bane offered him. Sliding under the covers, John kissed Bane’s chest, trying to burrow closer to steal Bane’s warmth.

Bane nodded, trying not to crack a smile, “In order to study the effects of subspace on robins, staying naked in my bed for an extended amount of time will be required. Are those parametres agreeable to you, John Blake?”

“This sounds like a challenging experiment that requires vigorous participation. Your thesis is vague though. Maybe we could try the experiment over and over again to determine the long term effects of enforced Bane bedroom subspace on unruly robins?”

“I'm eager for the study to commence,” bane pulled out a notebook from his nightstand. Cracking open the over, he wrote in crisp block letters, Day one.

John snuggled closer to Bane, draping his arm over Bane’s chest, closing his eyes, Bane petting his hair while John slipped into dreamless sleep, feeling cared for, cozy, warm and safe. What more could a lonely robin want?

🏢🏣🏤🏥🏦🏪🏬🏣

John’s heartbeat thumped loudly in his chest.

Be calm. Be calm. John, Bane needed him to focus. John pulled cold air into his lungs while he looked through high-powered night vision binoculars. John checked his laptop possibly for the 12th time tonight, reassuring himself, their hands-free cameras were filming every moment.

Bane, Barsad, Ivy and their hardcore knitfitti collective, The League of Shadows, were repelling, in the darkest of nights, from the top of the Statue of Justice. John had calculated how far they could fall from the top, if they weren’t expert ninja activists, the statue stood a frightening 350 feet from the ground. John bit his lip, trying to focus as they lowered themselves to Lady Liberty’s shoulders while carrying a huge knitted sash.

John adjusted the feed on Bane’s body camera, feeling vertigo just watching the live grainy footage, from John’s high perch up top an abandoned warehouse on Bleake Island.

John demanded to be a part of the knitfitti heist after Gotham’s Mayor quietly signed the Dent Act into law after the Joker’s reign of destruction. Barsad warned his friends, the cleverly written city law about the sweeping changes to Gotham Police Department’s arbitrary use of power would be passed without any fanfare after Harvey Dent’s horrific death.

When The Dent Law passed second reading and only need the mayor’s signature, The League of Shadows feared a democratic government body that actively sanctioned the exercise of brute force without cause or justification.

The Gotham City Police department would be free to incarcerate and detain anyone without cause. The League knew, they must act quickly and spark a conversation and debate about this new city law.

Bane had already been planning Statue of Justice yarnbombing project but since the unanimous passing of the Dent Act and only a Corrupt mayor needed to sign for it to become law, the league sped up the timeline.

John cheered softly as the League members attached their clips and ropes to the huge golden statue, unfurling the Ms. Information blinds Justice sash they attached over the course of an hour at her shoulder and hip.

John his send on his article about the League of Shadows Crativators who were fighting Gotham City Hall and their corrupt judges, lawyers and police who flaunted their connections to the rich and powerful Gothamite.

John ‘s article painted a dark picture of the Gotham PD rotten and corrupt. A justice system in Gotham tainted by money, police who aren’t bound by rule of law and sweeping new police powers leaving Gothamites fearful and distrustful of a system that continues to be biased and inequitable. John’s article shone a light at all levels of corruptions from the mayor’s office, the Gotham district attorney’s office, the Gotham PD and how the Harvey Dent act would effect every Gotham citizen including those already incarcerated in BlackGate Prison and Arkham Asylum.

John had sent his article to several of his other contacts in other cities, knowing that even his news organisation could be influenced to silence his story. The corrupt John reported about, that the League had been shining a spotlight on, strained everything Gotham touched. Hopefully, the knitfitti protest and their article would shake awake the people of Gotham.

“Little Bird, meet us at the rendez-vous point in an hour,” Bane’s voice mechanical, distorted through the masks they were wearing to disguise themselves. John shivered in anticipation.

After every grueling practice for this event, Bane came back with an excessive amount of adrenaline and need work off his excess energy and focus. John couldn’t even imagine what his dominant boyfriend had planned for him back at his brownstone

John closed the laptop lid after saving all the video files to cloud. He climbed down the fire escape, the Statue of Justice standing tall in Gotham’s Harbor behind him, wearing a knitted sash reminding Gothamites to fight against corruption.

John took one more picture of lady justice blinded by corruption. Her new knitted sash that boldly said Injustice for all bright against the darkness of harbour.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been sitting on this story for more than two years. I promised myself I would post it before the new year and now 2020 is here.  
So many people encouraged and supported me throughout this 3+ year writing process. Thank you to Teacuphuman, Chasingriver, writlarge, dei, Queuebird and slack who helped and encouraged me.


End file.
